


Standards

by lifeofroonilwazlib



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23374417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeofroonilwazlib/pseuds/lifeofroonilwazlib
Summary: Simon makes an impulse decision becuase a) Isabelle is beautiful and b) she said she had no standards left when it came to him.
Relationships: Simon Lewis & Isabelle Lightwood
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Standards

When Simon had left the apartment that evening to meet Isabelle at Veselka, he’d had no plans other than inhaling some borscht and strolling around the East Village with his girlfriend. But the minute he’d stepped into the restaurant and seen her poring over the menu, fiddling with her necklace, he’d known something about the night was special.

After dinner, as they walked their way to the Brooklyn Bridge, she shimmered. Her silvery dress smoothed over her body like water, covering all of her skin from neck to wrists. Only the slice between the hem and her thigh-high boots revealed rune-bearing skin. Simon knew she loved her thigh-high boots – _sexy and perfect for concealing weapons,_ she always said, and Simon couldn’t disagree. She wrapped her fingers around his, her wrist glinting with what looked like a bracelet that coiled all the way up to her elbow, but which Simon knew to be her preferred method of mass destruction.

Simon couldn’t, for the life of him, take his eyes off her.

She stopped talking about some upstart recruit and twisted toward him. “What’s up with you?”

“What?” He blinked, shaken out of his trance. “Uh, nothing,” He thumbed circles across her palm.

“I guess…” Well, It had been a while since they’d spend time together. Simon had been at the Bangkok institute for two days and since he’d gotten back that afternoon, Isabelle had been wrapped up in training the fresh New York recruits. It wasn’t the longest they’d gone without seeing each other, but she’d been texting him every day and Simon had developed a craving for her that made his skin yearn for hers.

“I guess I missed you,” he said eventually, leaning forward, wanting to close the gap. At the last minute, she shifted, her hand twisting in his. Simon’s eyes flew open as she thrust him aside and the whip slinked off her wrist, coming to life.

Simon smelled the demons before he saw them. Isabelle’s head was turned to the sky, and Simon saw what she was looking at – two Shax demons, leaping off the bridge’s cabled, their pincers flailing as they jumped. Over the East River, the wind must have carried their scent away. Simon cursed – he’d been trained better than this.

Isabelle strode forward to meet them, Simon close behind her. His seraph blade was alight in his hand as he helped her slash, jab and slice at the demons, but he didn’t need to. She was almost a blur, only visible through her electrum whip curling through the air and the silk of her inky hair as it floated around her. Ichor sprayed everywhere. Before Simon had gotten more than a few cuts in, the demons were collapsing in on themselves at their feet.

Isabelle stepped forward into the place where the demons had been, her heels stomping on the concrete. She was covered in ichor – it soaked her boots, darkened patches of her dress that clung to her body. She seemed to be expanding, filling all of Simon’s vision, growing like an Angel rising out of a lake. Marks glowed through her thin dress, and with her river of hair caught in the wind, she looked like an explosion igniting from within.

“Damn demons,” she muttered, the whip snaking back up her arm. She wrapped hands around Simon’s torso, eyes alight from the fight, and smiled. “I missed you, too.”

Simon felt the words forming in his mouth before he’d even processed them.

“Marry me,” he said, breathless from the constricting of his chest.

Her hands fluttered at his waist. “Simon?”

Simon swallowed. “Marry me, Isabelle. I mean – do you – do you want to?”

She gaped. Simon recalled that there was always something satisfying about surprising Isabelle. Maybe it had to do with how her mouth opened and closed like a fish.

“You – you’re _ridiculous!_ ” Her eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. “We just fought off a pair of demons! By the Angel, I’m covered – _soaked_ in ichor –” She seemed to be gasping, for breath or words, Simon couldn’t tell. “– and I’m a _mess_ , and this _really_ isn’t my best outfit, Simon!”

He ought to have blanched, but the firmness of her hands on his waist made confidence bloom in his chest.

“I know,” he said, although he really thought she never looked better than after a fight, and pulled her closer. “Marry me.” He stared at her, giving her time and willing her to realise that this was real.

He saw the visible change on her face. After all this time, seeing Isabelle raw and unhidden still made Simon count his blessings.

Instead of replying she crashed her mouth against his (to hide the beaming smile that had been about to revel itself, Simon suspected). She kissed him, and it felt like it always did, but also like the promise of something new. _That’s Isabelle_ , Simon thought, _comfort, excitement, and full of surprises._

“I love you,” she said, drawing back. Simon got lost in her dazzling smile.

“Is that a yes?”

She just kissed him again, pressing her body against his until they were leaning on the railing, the East River swirling below. Her hair swirled all over him in the wind, and for a moment he was surrounded, completely, by Isabelle. Simon had been in the presence of Raziel himself, but the silk of Isabelle’s hair and the curves of her body pressed against his did things to him that heavenly fire never could. Her mouth was hot, her fingers had already slipped under his shirt, Simon had begun fiddling with the hem of her dress, and he had gotten so worked up that he was in half a mind to just draw some glamour runes and go at it, right here on the Brooklyn Bridge.

But she drew back a fraction, and looked at him in a way that Simon want to rip her beautiful dress to shreds.

“For you,” she said, lips deliciously swollen, “it’s always a yes,”

Simon was reminded for the millionth time since he had met her that Isabelle’s true superpower was not exacting deadly vengeance with her whip – it was her ability to turn his world into liquid.

He wanted to kiss her again, so badly, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself this time. Instead, he pulled her into a cab and did his best not to think too hard about her promise of the _best_ engagement sex of his life.

As he desperately tried to unlock the door to their apartment, still excruciatingly far away from each other, Isabelle turned to him.

“Did you plan this?”

“What do you think?” Simon tried to keep his voice steady.

“Well, there was no ring,”

“Hey,” he said, finally having gotten the door open and pulling her in, “you did say you had no standards left.”

And it really was the best engagement sex of his life.


End file.
